


Shafted

by epeeblade



Series: My cliches [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, object!pregnancy, quiver!preg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Coulson, I think my quiver is pregnant.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shafted

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing a series of ficlets based on my own fanfic cliches. Here's the first - object!preg.
> 
> (Please see [What to expect when your Impala's expecting](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12754) for the personal cliche I am revisiting.)

“Coulson, I think my quiver is pregnant.”

Phil paused in the middle of crossing a “t”, then pressed his pen to the paper and continued filling out Form 34-B with his usual precise strokes. “Barton, get out of my office.”

He knew he’d been spending too much time working lately, but really, Clint was going to extreme lengths to get him to stop. Phil’s shoulder twinged in reminder and he refrained from wincing, though he had to pause and rub out the cramp.

“No, seriously, look.” Clint held out his quiver cradled between his hands as if it were a baby. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were pale.

And the quiver had a bulge in the middle.

“Did Stark put you up to this?”

Clint rolled his eyes and pulled the quiver back to his chest. “Don’t you remember the fertility goddess we fought last week? I got grazed by one of her spells...”

“But it only hit the quiver.” Phil eyed the long black cylinder again. Was it pulsing?

“Yeah. And it’s been off, for a while. Luckily we haven’t been in the field, so, I...” Clint stopped in midsentence as the quiver twitched in his hands. He put it back on Phil’s desk and they both watched in silence as six tiny arrows emerged from the opening. They were no bigger than darts, each black with a purple shaft.

“I’m calling R and D.” Phil reached for the phone.

“Oh no!” Clint scooped up the little arrows and held them close to his heart. “You are not taking my babies away.”

“Clint!”

Clint scooped up the quiver and dashed out of the office.

It looked like Phil wasn’t getting any more work done today.


End file.
